


Temporary Scarring

by sahiya



Series: Third Degree [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night out for our trio goes rather awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Scarring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/gifts).



> This fic is for Yamx, who was the runner-up bid in my Help_Midwest auction. Thank you for your generosity! Many thanks also to Fuzzyboo for beta reading. The quaddies, incidentally, are not my invention, but rather belong to Lois McMaster Bujold.

Jack woke easily from the anesthesia, as if bobbing to the surface of a pool. One moment, he was lying on the surgical gurney, staring up at the blank, white ceiling of the clinic; the next, his eyes opened and he saw Dr. Vree peering down at him.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, a smile lighting up her beautifully sculpted face. “How are you feeling? Much better than last time, yes?”

“Yup,” Jack said, sitting up carefully. The anesthesia they’d used last time had left him woozy and vaguely ill for almost a full day, but this stuff, whatever it was, didn’t even make his head ache. “How’d it go?”

“Very well!” she said. “I’m most pleased. There is some temporary scarring, but that’s all part of the process. It will get better as you progress through the remainder of your treatment. Would you like to see?”

“Of course,” Jack said, holding his hand out for the mirror. She handed it to him and he peered at himself, frowning. He was glad she’d reminded him about the temporary scarring before allowing him to look at himself; she’d warned him ahead of time, of course, but he hadn’t expected it to be so striking. He’d almost looked better before this round of surgery, he thought; the raised, red lines that arched across his face were far more vivid than he’d expected. “Oh.”

“I know it feels like a step backwards,” Dr. Vree said gently, “but it’s not. Do you have any questions?”

Jack handed back the mirror and tried to smile. His facial muscles were working properly again, but it didn’t feel like this smile was quite up to his usual standards. “No, thanks,” he said, sliding off the bed. “I’m back in two days, right?”

“That’s right,” she said. “Treat yourself kindly until then.”

“Sure,” Jack said easily, and left to go find Rose.

She was in the waiting area, as usual, sitting crosslegged on one of the wide chairs, flipping through a digitized magazine tablet. “Hey,” he said, dropping into the seat beside her.

“Hey,” she said, glancing up. He caught the moment she saw the scars; her eyes widened, though she recovered quickly. “How’d it go?”

“Well enough, Dr. Vree said.” Jack gestured to his face. “The scarring’s temporary. All part of the process.”

Rose nodded. “And no funny reactions to the anesthesia?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Good,” Rose said. She cupped Jack’s face in her hand, leaned in, and kissed him. Then she dropped her hand down to pick his up and squeeze it. “Let’s go. The Doctor might actually beat us back to the flat today, and who knows what would happen then?”

Today’s grocery run through time and space, Jack recalled, had been for Jammy Dodgers, Nutella, and a certain brand of mascara for Rose. The Doctor complained - “ _Why can’t you two ever just make a list so I can pick it all up at once instead of going out every day?_ ” - but secretly they all knew the trips were the only thing keeping the Doctor from climbing the walls while they were grounded for the duration of Jack’s recovery.

They caught a tram back to their neighborhood from outside the hospital. Jack had been hoping for a mostly empty car, but no such luck; it was too early for the rush hour crush, but the tram was still crowded with older Roganis out doing their shopping and children coming home from school. Rogani VI had been colonized by humans about six hundred standard years earlier, and it was known for two things: beaches and body mod technology. About 95% of Rogani citizens, the Doctor had told him and Rose, back when they had first arrived, had some sort of facial sculpture or body mod work at some point, and most of them had it done more than once. It was what made the planet such a good choice for Jack's surgeries.

It also meant that everyone on the tram over the age of sixteen standard was bloody gorgeous. Even the woman to Jack's left, who was at least a hundred and ten standard, was stunning. Her hair was pure white and there were lines in all the expected places, but there was an elegant arch to her nose and cheekbones, and the skin beneath her eyes and under her chin was still firm.

After the first few days, Rose had never let it bother her. The Doctor had never seemed to notice it at all. Normally, Jack tried to follow their example; he was here to get healed, after all, and anyone who wanted to stare could just be ashamed of themselves. But today felt . . . different.

Jack looked out the window as much as possible, but he still caught the elderly woman's wincing expression before she looked away, and the two kids seated across the aisle from them stared openly. "What's wrong with his _face_?" the littler one finally asked her older brother, who shushed her and pulled her further away from Jack.

"It's only temporary," Rose said in a low voice, reaching over to take his hand.

"I know," Jack said.

It was a huge relief to exit the tram and climb the stairs to their third floor flat. Rose keyed them inside, where they were greeted by the sight of the TARDIS parked in the corner of the lounge and the Doctor sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa, tinkering with the dismantled toaster. He had his screwdriver clamped between his teeth as he worked, and an expression of intense concentration on his face.

“I was gonna use that later, you know,” Rose said by way of greeting. The Doctor mumbled something around the screwdriver, without glancing up. Rose glanced at Jack and rolled her eyes. “Doctor, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

The Doctor spat out his screwdriver into his hand. “I said, I’m _improving_ it.”

“Of course you are,” Rose said with a smile. “Just make sure you improve it so I can still use it as a toaster, all right?”

The Doctor looked offended; for a moment Jack thought the two of them were going to get into a completely useless, if undoubtedly entertaining, bickering match over the myriad possible uses of a common toaster, but then the Doctor looked up and caught sight of Jack. He pushed himself up off the floor in one fluid movement to look him in the eye. “How was it today, lad?” he asked, in a much gentler voice.

“Fine,” Jack said. He didn’t really want to explain about the temporary scarring again, so he let the Doctor just look. He closed his eyes, waiting for the verdict.

“Mmm,” the Doctor said at last, appreciatively. “That’s fantastic work.”

Jack opened his eyes. “Dr. Vree is the best.”

The Doctor smiled. “That she is.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, where by the sound of it, Rose was making tea. “I wanted to ask you. Now that you’re feeling a bit better, how do you feel about going out?”

Jack blinked. “Out? In the TARDIS?”

“No, just here,” the Doctor said, with a gesture toward the windows. “Interesting city we’re in. Lots of things to do. I know Rose was looking forward to living here, but she hasn’t seen much of it.”

“Right,” Jack said, carefully keeping the little flutter of panic he felt at the idea from creeping into his voice. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Since you ask . . .” The Doctor pulled three credit chits out of his pocket. They were tickets, Jack saw, stamped with today’s date. “I saw her reading an article about this last week. An antigrav ballet troop’s in town, one of the best in this sector. They’re doing a reinterpretation of Tchaikovsky’s _Romeo and Juliet_.”

“Aww, Doc, that’s almost romantic,” Jack said, grinning broadly. “Doing domestic, getting groceries, taking us on a proper date - next thing you know, you’ll have a mortgage.”

“Shut it, you,” the Doctor replied, with a notable lack of rancor. “Anyway. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, but I thought - well, I got us a private box.”

“Really?” Jack said with a leer. The Doctor gave him a stern look. Jack schooled his expression back to something approaching normal. He was dissembling and the Doctor knew it. “Yeah, it’s fine. Sounds great.”

The Doctor eyed him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Rose’ll love it.”

“And you?” he asked shrewdly.

“Beautiful men and women in skin-tight clothing, contorting themselves in mid-air?” Jack smiled. “I’ll be enjoying myself, too, Doc, I promise.”

The Doctor nodded, slowly. “Good. I’ll just go tell Rose, then.”

Jack stayed in the lounge, listening to the Doctor and Rose’s indistinct voices in the other room. He could tell the moment the Doctor gave her the tickets, because she squealed and he laughed. “Jack!” she said, bounding into the room and throwing her arms around him. “Did the Doctor tell you?”

“Yup,” Jack said, hugging her back and pressing his lips against her hair.

“Oh God, what do I wear to something like this?” Rose asked, looking to the Doctor.

“We can find you something from the wardrobe room, I’m sure,” the Doctor said. “No need to rush, we’ve got almost four hours.”

Jack laughed. “Doctor, have you met Rose Tyler?”

“Oh shut up,” Rose said, smacking him on the arm. “You’re going to dress up too, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Jack replied. “Go on, I just want to get myself some water. I’m a bit dry from the anesthesia.”

He watched them both disappear into the TARDIS. Then he actually did go and get himself a glass of water. He drank it standing over the sink, waiting for his pulse to slow. A private box, the Doctor had said. That would make it easier. And he did look better, much better, or at least he no longer looked as though he should be haunting the Paris Opera House and kidnapping sopranos. With the Doctor and Rose by his side, nothing could go too horribly wrong.

“Right,” Jack breathed, set his glass down, and went to find himself a tuxedo.

***

Three hours later, Jack was feeling slightly less trepidation. Rose had found a stunning red off-the-shoulder dress that wrapped around her curves and made her look five years older. It was conservative for this place and time, but Jack thought that rather than implying that Rose was afraid to show off her body, the dress instead made the statement that she was simply above such things.

Jack was fairly certain that with her on his arm, no one would be paying the slightest attention to him, but he obediently changed into the - indeed quite fantastic - tuxedo the TARDIS had rather pointedly left out for him. There were flecks of red in the cummerbund and vest that matched Rose's dress exactly, and very small rubies in the cufflinks.

"Men still wear tuxedos here?" Rose asked, watching him dress with fascination.

"A good tuxedo never goes out of style," Jack said with a smile. "I'm a little jealous of women, though. You get all the interesting fashions."

"And all the stupid ones," Rose replied, looking down at herself. The dress was slit halfway up her thigh, showing off a stocking-clad calf and feet wrapped in complicated black heels. "Though I admit, these shoes are a lot more comfortable than I thought they'd be. The only other time I've ever worn heels this tall was when me and Shareen went clubbing about six months before I met the Doctor. I almost fell over and broke my neck!"

"That's impossible to do in these," Jack said. "They have balance stabilizers built in."

"They feel like walking on a cloud," Rose said, bouncing a little. "Too bad we're gonna be sitting down all evening. I feel like I could dance for hours in these."

"Some other time," Jack promised her, with a smile and a kiss.

"Oi," the Doctor said, ducking into the room. "Are you two ready yet?"

"We're ready," Rose said, turning in Jack's arms to grin at the Doctor. "Are you?"

The Doctor looked down at himself. "I'm dressed, aren't I?"

"In the same thing you wear every day," Jack pointed out.

"So? I like it. S' comfortable. Besides, with the two of you looking that flash, no one'll notice me. Come on, then. I've called a car for us."

"Good," Rose said, letting the Doctor give her hand up the stairs. "I don't much fancy riding the tram in this dress."

Jack didn't much fancy riding the tram at all after this afternoon. He gave himself a once over again in front of the mirror. The lines on his face were, if anything, even more livid than they had been, but they didn't hurt and they weren't warm to the touch.

"How're you doing, lad?" the Doctor asked, stepping up behind him, and putting a hand on the small of Jack's back. It was the sort of small, supportive gesture that had become a lot more common since Jack got burned.

Jack turned his head and smiled. "Great. You know me - love a night out."

"Hmm," the Doctor said, not looking as though he were fooled in the slightest. "Rose mentioned what happened on the tram earlier."

Jack frowned. "Is that why you called for the car?"

"Nah, I was gonna do that anyway - I know Rose thinks public transportation's a lark, but I'm impatient, me. I was just asking."

"I'm fine," Jack said firmly. "I don't care what a few Roganis think." Not that it was pleasant, being stared at like some sort of curiosity or, worse yet, shied away from like he was some sort of monster, but with the Doctor and Rose on his arm, he could endure far worse.

This is what Jack told himself an hour later, when they emerged from the car in front of the Great and Bountiful Imperial Theatre and he found himself facing a sea of perfectly sculpted Rogani faces. There were myriad shapes, from very rounded to very sharp, and even more colors - the full spectrum of natural human flesh tones, plus a few blue or purple - but every single one of them was perfectly symmetrical and perfectly . . . well, _perfect_ in its own unique way.

He kept his head down as they walked in, as though that would somehow help. The young Rogani checking the ticket creds faltered in his rhythm when he caught a glimpse of Jack, but at least he had the grace or the sense not to say anything. There were others who weren't so polite. Jack's 51st century hearing was sensitive enough to pick up the sudden, quiet undertone of conversation that started up when the three of them entered the foyer of the theater. By the set of the Doctor's jaw, he'd noticed it, too. Rose, whose hearing was far less sensitive than either of theirs, was spared; she stared around the lavish, cavernous foyer with unabashed curiosity and looked a little disappointed when the Doctor suggested they head straight for their private box, where they would have a waiter all to themselves for the evening.

The private box was a relief. It was, as advertised, very private: there were only four plush seats, perfect to curl up or snuggle in, with an excellent view of the three-story tall stage. They were about twenty feet off the ground, but most of the ballet would be taking place in mid-air, only a few feet in front of them. Jack seated himself on the end, and the Doctor sat beside him. Rose sat forward in her seat, peering over the edge of the railing in curiosity.

Their waiter appeared to introduce himself and ask if they wanted anything to eat or drink. The Doctor ordered an assortment of appetizers for all of them. Rose requested a cocktail off the menu, something extravagant that was probably more fruit than liquor.

Jack ordered a whiskey on the rocks, which earned him a sharp look from the Doctor. Drinking on surgery days wasn't advised; it wasn't dangerous, exactly, but the anesthesia tended to heighten the effects of other drugs, including alcohol. At the moment, Jack didn't care.

Their waiter vanished. The Doctor reached over and took Jack's hand in his. "You okay, lad?"

Jack felt his jaw clench. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

The Doctor pitched his voice low. "You know why."

Jack swallowed. "I'm fine. It's just . . . bad timing."

The Doctor nodded. But he didn't let go of his hand, for which Jack was very quietly grateful. Eventually his drink arrived, and he was grateful for that as well. Not long after, the house lights dimmed and went out, leaving spotlights illuminating the stage. A shimmer swept over it - "Force field," Jack heard the Doctor whisper to Rose, "so we're not all floating in mid-air" - and then the first dancer was released from the floor to soar up to the very top. Rose gasped, and Jack smiled despite himself.

It was a gorgeous production. Null-g ballet had fallen out of favor in Jack's home century, but he'd caught one or two during his years as a Time Agent. Not really his thing, he'd always thought, though he could appreciate the music and, as he'd told the Doctor, pretty people wearing very little clothing. But this was something else altogether. There had always been something a bit stilted about the null-g productions Jack had seen - objectively beautiful, yes, but almost too tightly controlled. These dancers _flowed_ , even when in perfect sync. It was hard to believe, watching them, that humans were born to do anything other than fly.

The final scene before intermission was a _pas de deux_ between Romeo and Juliet. The dancers started out near the floor and spiraled upwards slowly, using the walls of the forcefield and each other to control their ascent. The music built with them; by the time they reached the top of the forcefield, nearly ten feet up from where he sat with his lovers, Jack's heart was beating wildly in his chest and there were tears in his eyes. Wrapped around each other high overhead, the lovers kissed as the music crescendoed - and then, the theater plunged into darkness and silence as the music ceased and the lights went out.

The theater exploded into applause as the house lights came back up. "That was incredible," Jack said breathlessly to the Doctor. "I've never seen anything like that."

"It's nice enough for a human company," the Doctor said, helping himself to a canapé from the half-eaten plate of appetizers.

"Oi," Rose said, frowning, "why do you always have to _qualify_? Can't you just say it's nice?"

"Humans," the Doctor grumbled, "you take everything so personally. I just meant that there are species that live in null-g their entire lives. There's nothing like antigrav ballet on Graf Station out in Quaddiespace. This lot here's doing a great job imitating them, though, I'll give you that."

"Well, human or not, I thought it was beautiful," Rose said, still sounding a bit defensive. She stood, straightening the fall of her skirt out carefully. "I think I'm going to get another drink and stretch my legs. That was a long first act."

"The bar will be packed," the Doctor pointed out.

"Forget the bar, try the women's loo," Rose said with a sigh. "Five thousand years in the future and I still have to wait in line. I'll meet you two in the foyer when I'm done." She disappeared down the stairs.

The Doctor glanced at Jack. "I can meet her, if you'd rather stay."

"No, I'd like to stretch my legs, too," Jack said, standing. Between the whiskey and the ballet, he felt good - loose and relaxed, as though nothing could bother him. He tucked his hand into the Doctor's arm and held his chin up high as they followed a steady stream of Roganis down the stairs.

The foyer was every bit as crowded as the Doctor had predicted. The Roganis seemed to be just as taken by the performance Jack was himself; to his relief, they seemed too busy discussing it enthusiastically to pay much attention to a couple of strange off-worlders in their midst. Still, the Doctor made Jack assure him two or three times that he'd be fine on his own before disappearing off to the loo, with a - to Jack's mind, rather unnecessary - promise to be back in no more than a minute or two.

Jack stepped up to the bar to order another whiskey for himself and a cocktail for Rose. The harried bartender barely glanced at him as she filled his order before moving on to the next customer. Jack leaned on the bar and sipped his whiskey as he waited for his partners. Perhaps the Doctor'd had the right idea with this after all, he thought. He and Rose had been shuttling back and forth between the clinic and their flat, more or less, since they’d got here, and it was good for them all to get out.

"Hey there, handsome," a flirtatious and very young female voice behind him said, as a hand came to rest on Jack's shoulder. "What are you doing here all alone?"

 _Oh hell._

Jack froze. "Sorry, I'm taken," he said, without turning around.

The Rogani girl laughed. "Oh, come on, I promise I don't bite," she said. "You might be taken, but does that mean you can't even look at me?" She tugged at him and Jack reluctantly turned, pasting on his best smile while he was at it. "There, see," she said, smiling, "was that so - _OH_!"

The thing about the foyer, Jack discovered in that moment, was that it carried sound very, very well. The girl's cry echoed in the cavernous space, silencing every other conversation. She was really very beautiful, he noticed with detachment, or would've been had she not been staring at him in horror.

And now everyone else was, too.

It was the longest five seconds of Jack's life. He stood there, rigid, until slowly the murmur of conversation started up again. With one last mortified look in his direction, the girl melted away into the crowd.

The Doctor appeared just as Jack was tossing his whiskey back. He must've been on the edges of the crowd and seen it happen, because he didn't bother to ask Jack what had happened. "Are you okay?" he asked, gripping Jack's arm and glowering at a cluster of older Roganis who were staring openly at Jack.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just think - I think I'd better go home. I'm sorry."

The Doctor nodded. "Of course. As soon as Rose comes back, I’ll call for the car -"

"No," Jack said swiftly. "You and Rose should stay. You're both enjoying the performance, and Rose deserves the night out. I don't want to ruin that. I just . . ." He swallowed. "I just can't do it tonight. I'm sorry. Don't tell Rose, okay? Just tell her I'm tired."

"She's not going to believe that."

"Then tell her something else. I don't care what."

"Jack -"

"Don't, Doc." Jack shook his head. "Have fun. I'll see you at home later." He turned away before the Doctor could say another word and easily cut through the crowd to get to the door; most of them were eager to get out of his way.

There was a tram stop right in front of the theater, but he opted for an autocab instead. He simply couldn't face - _ha_ \- anyone.

***

There was a room in the TARDIS that Jack only ever seemed to stumble upon when he was upset. It looked like the ruins of an old temple. The ground was soft and springy beneath his feet, and everything was covered in a soft green moss. The artificial sky overhead was blue with a few white, puffy clouds, and the air smelled of honeysuckle.

Tonight, he’d gone looking for his bedroom, but the TARDIS had led him here instead. Jack lay down on the ground and shut his eyes, trying to let the hum of the ship block out the echo of the Rogani girl's voice. It shouldn't have bothered him, Jack knew. He had everything he needed in the Doctor and Rose, and he knew without a doubt that they would never leave him because of how he looked. That should be enough. It shouldn't bother him what anyone else thought. But it did. His whole life, he had attracted attention for his looks, but never of this sort. It was startling, every time, to be stared at with such revulsion, and if he were honest with himself, it was frightening as well.

He didn't want to hide in the flat the whole time they were here. He wanted to be better than that. Rose had been looking forward to living on another planet, far in her future. He wanted her to have the chance to really live here, and he knew neither she nor the Doctor would be willing to leave him home while they went out. In this particular moment, though, he wished they would.

Jack wasn't sure how long he lay there, looking up at the clouds. Eventually he must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew, Rose and the Doctor were there, bracketing him on either side, and the sky was red with a stunning artificial sunset. Rose had changed out of her gown and into pajamas; she was curled around him with her foot hooked over his calf and her head resting on his shoulder. The Doctor, on his other side, wasn't actually touching him, but Jack could feel his solid, reassuring presence nonetheless. He reached for the Doctor's hand. The Doctor kissed the back of his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Jack said at last.

" _You're_ sorry?" Rose replied, lifting her head. "Jack, _I'm_ sorry. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't've gone. I just didn't realize - but I should have. After today on the tram, I should've realized."

"I did realize," the Doctor said. "I didn't know how bad it'd be, but I thought . . ." He sighed. "I thought it'd do you good to get out. I'm so sorry, lad."

Jack shook his head. "It's not your fault. I should be strong enough -"

"What? No!" Rose said, at the same time the Doctor said, "That's nonsense, Captain." They stopped and looked at each other, and any other time Jack would have laughed. "That's nonsense, Captain," the Doctor repeated. "'Strong enough' has nothing to do with it. It's not your fault everyone on this planet's so used to looking at their own perfect faces that they don't know how to deal with anything else." The Doctor frowned, deeply. "I should've thought of that before we came here."

“Enough,” Rose said, sitting up suddenly. “We’re not playing ‘shoulda, woulda, coulda.’ If it’s not our fault, Jack, then it’s not yours either.”

Jack thought about protesting - at least some of this was certainly his fault - but by the set of Rose’s jaw, he didn’t think that’d go over well. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Rose said, squeezing his hand hard. “But that still leaves us with the problem of making sure this never happens again.”

Jack shrugged. “I think you two are just going to have to go out without me, sometimes. It’s not a big deal,” he added, when Rose looked unhappy. “I can entertain myself, I promise.”

She shook her head. “That’s not the point, Jack. Do you really think we’d do that? Go out and leave you sitting home alone all evening?”

"The scarring's temporary, lad," the Doctor pointed out. "It's just the stage you're at in your surgeries. Once this bit's over, it shouldn't be visible at all, and you’ll look like yourself again."

"I know," Jack said. "I do, really. It's just . . ." He stopped. _Not all scarring is physical_ , he wanted to tell them. It was going to take a long time for that Rogani girl’s voice to stop echoing in his ears.

The Doctor wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders, tugging him back flush against his body. "Wasn't trying to pressure you, lad. Though speaking of which . . . if you didn't want to go tonight, you should've said so."

Jack sighed. That part _had_ been his fault. "I know. It was just such a nice surprise, I didn't want to ruin it. How was the second act, anyway?" he asked, looking at Rose. "Was it as good as the first?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention. I was too worried about you."

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know how much you were looking forward to really getting to live here, and I’m just -”

“Jack, _stop_ ,” she said. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault, what happened. And stop worrying about me - I don’t need to go out to be happy. We could stay in the TARDIS, just the three of us, all the time, and I’d be happy because I have you two.”

“Me too, lad,” the Doctor said, his arm tightening around Jack’s shoulders. “The only thing that matters to us is you getting better. All the rest is just stuff. Understood?”

Jack couldn’t speak. He tried, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. He nodded instead, and Rose lay down again, pulling him down beside her. The three of them fell silent as the brilliant red of the artificial sunset faded into darkness. The air was so still Jack could barely feel it against his skin. He shifted over so his head rested against the Doctor's shoulder and pulled Rose closer. None of them said anything about moving to their bed in the flat, for which Jack was grateful. He felt so safe, here on the TARDIS, between the two of them, as though nothing could touch him, and though he knew the feeling was temporary - even more temporary than the scarring on his face - he found himself wanting it to last just a little longer.

***

“Oi! Are you two ready?” the Doctor called. “We’re going to be late!”

“You know,” Rose said, as she sat to pull on her boots, “it’s almost as though we don’t live in a time machine.”

Jack laughed and adjusted his tie one last time, eyeing himself in the mirror. His face - his own familiar, scar-free face - smiled back at him. Dr. Vree had more than lived up to her reputation. Still - as much as Jack had to admit it had all worked out for the best, he’d been happy to leave Rogani VI behind a week ago. This was where the three of them belonged: out in the universe, all of time and space at their fingertips.

The Doctor had been remarkably closed-mouthed about tonight. Usually he was eager to tell them all about where they were going as a sort of teaser, but all he’d said to them this afternoon was that they should rustle up some evening wear. Jack and Rose had glanced at each other, shrugged, and headed off to the wardrobe. Jack had felt them land earlier, while he and Rose were still playing dress up, but to his surprise, the Doctor hadn’t appeared immediately to tell them where they were.

“There,” Rose said, standing. She’d chosen a blue dress tonight, short and shimmery. “Let’s go see what Himself has planned.”

“Whatever it is,” Jack said, offering her his arm, “I hope you can run in those boots.”

“About time,” the Doctor grumbled when they appeared in the console room. “Come on, then!”

“Jack, you look very handsome tonight,” Rose said pointedly.

“Thank you, Rose,” Jack said, squeezing her arm. “And you yourself are stunning.”

“Why, thank you!”

“All right, all right,” the Doctor said with a roll of the eyes, “you’re both very handsome apes. _Now_ can we go?”

“Yes, fine,” Rose sighed. The two of them followed the Doctor out of the TARDIS and into a brightly lit corridor - either a space station or a space ship, Jack’s nose and ears told him at once. There was no mistaking the smell of recycled air or the thrum of generators.

“Graf Station,” the Doctor declared. “A major space port and trade hub, famous for -”

“Oh!” Rose said, very quietly, as a humanoid creature with no legs and four arms sped by in a vehicle shaped rather like an oversized teacup.

“- quaddies,” the Doctor finished. “They were originally a genetic experiment, but they broke off from humans generations ago and found their way out here.”

“Wait,” Jack said slowly. “Quaddies. Didn’t you say -”

“Yup,” the Doctor said with a satisfied smile. “Quaddies. Famous for their null-g ballet. You never did get to see the second act, lad, and Rose and I were a bit too preoccupied to appreciate it.” Jack followed his gesture down the corridor and saw a crowd - mostly humans, but with plenty of quaddies in their teacup transporters mixed in - gathering outside a set of closed doors. The marquee overhead announced tonight’s performance of _Romeo and Juliet_.

Rose bounced excitedly and gripped the Doctor’s arm. The Doctor, Jack realized after a moment, was watching him carefully. “Is this all right with you, Jack?” he asked.

It took Jack a moment to answer. When he finally found his voice, all he could manage at first was, “Yes.” He reached for Rose’s hand and she gripped it. He cleared his throat. “Yes, this is very much all right with me. Thank you, Doctor. This is -”

“Nothing,” the Doctor said firmly. He stepped forward and kissed Jack on the mouth, a rare gesture of public affection. His hand was firm on the back of Jack’s neck. “It’s nothing, Jack. Now, let’s get a move on, you two. It’s time you saw null-g ballet how it was always meant to be.”

 _Fin._


End file.
